Lies, Deception and Betrayal
by juliasejanus
Summary: The only rule of the great game was that there were none. Friends became enemies at a flip of a coin and vice versa. Alex Rider was again caught up in events beyond his control. Warning sexual situations and Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Thursdays were definitely the worst day of the week. Jack had died on a Thursday. Everything had been destroyed that day, all Alex's hopes and dreams of stability, of being a normal, football playing teenager had gone up in the smoke of that bomb detonated by his evil twin, Julius Grief. Alex was quite cold with the Pleasures, afraid to get too close. He knew from bitter experience that in an instant you could loose everything and have to start again. He had not really unpacked yet after three months in the US. He repacked every weekend, just in case he had to leave in a hurry. This morning was no different to last Thursday or the Thursday before. He would fast the entire day, survive on autopiliot and be glad when the midnight came.

Alex Rider was just getting used to his timetable at his new school, the layout of the buildings, the strangeness of the American system, when two Agents of the Department of Homeland Security had taken him out of his Algebra class at Santa Cruz High School. He was driven to a Palo Alto, put on a light plane and was informed he was in protective custody due to a situation. In his usual Thursday morning daze he had not noted anything unusual on the news. Edward had been working from home and not mentioned a thing. So, without warning, the government had decided to pack the ex-teen spy off to a featureless assessment centre in Montana. He has asked what was wrong but the two stony faced government yes-men said "classified". He arrived at the grey building with two security fences and miles of flat bleak plains in all directions. Alex asked to phone his foster parents, but was not allowed a phone call to alert anyone to his location. Wasn't that a constitutional right, well he guessed he was too close to being a terrorist himself after his brief defection to Scorpia to be allowed such niceties as human rights. He had no idea if the Pleasure's were OK as no one was telling him a thing.

Alex had been photographed, his fingerprints taken and his retinas scanned. He had been strip searched and was now dressed in an orange jump suit and had been left to stew in a cell with blank walls, a bright overhead panel light, a fixed bed, a sink and a toilet, but no window except a slot in the door. He sat and stared at the wall. It was better than Scorpia hospitality after all. He was in for the long haul as food was delivered to the cell, no visits to a communal dining area or for excercise. He ate mechanically as the food was bland and tasteless. You never knew if that was your last meal after all. After the lights went out, Alex had begun to worry. Surely, Edward would have noted he was missing by now. Then again, he had just upped and disappeared before. Who knows what the Government had told his guardians. Alex knew the Homeland Security Act gave them the power to detain all who were a threat to the good old US of A. Alex was a known espionage agent of a foreign power after all. The operation in Cairo had taught Alex that the alliance between Britain and America was paper thin when push came to shove. He was just a pawn in a much larger game.

The next day, Alex was taken to an interrogation room. Two different agents in ill fitting suits, white shirts and dark blue ties came in. "Good morning Mr. Rider. I am Special Agent Knox and my colleague is Special Agent Kowalski. You have been placed in protective custody after we became aware of an external security threat."

Alex could not help himself "Let me guess, Scorpia?"

"We have to inform you that yesterday, MI6 made us aware that a Level One security Breach had happened at their Detention Centre in Scotland and one of their most dangerous inmates escaped. A Scorpia trained assassin called Yassen Gregorovich." The agent watched as the kid lost all colour in his face and started to hyperventilate.

Alex was resting in the Assessment Centre's Medical Bay. Not much more than a nurses room really. The examination bed was hard, but Alex was on a heart monitor and oxygen after his major panic attack and fainting episode. He guessed he was here for his own good as he had personally destroyed Scorpia credibility and Cossack was likely to be out for revenge. He hoped he was going to be able to continue to study for his High School Certificate, but there were no certainties now. Considering Alex Rider's very low opinion of Alan Blunt, he was not surprised to discover the man had lied to him about Yassen Gregorovich. Yassen was alive and now free. Alex guessed he should opt for the red shirt with the target on it, rather than overalls. He was as good as dead after his little adventure in Venice. Alex began to bite his nails, soon he was down to the quick, the pain a welcome distraction.

After several hours when he ignored the nurse, he was taken back to his cell. He noted the routine of the guards, the twists and turns of the corridors, the layout of the doors, the gates and the cameras. He was no longer a boy, but a statistic, a number and was now part of a system of threats to national security. He had no options but to accept his fate as an ex-operative with no useful future prospects.

...

Monday morning and Alex was shown to the showers. Communal and no choice but to strip in front of the guard. Alex hated his scarred body. The room had eight showers and no stalls. A bench and pegs on the side. A rack of plain grey towels. A group of other guests of the US government arrived as Alex was drying off.

The guard with Alex scolded, "Mike, you're early. You are not scheduled to be here for three minutes."

Alex got the impression he was not meant to be interacting with the general population. A tall dark haired inmate asked Alex "How old are you, boy?"

"Fifteen."

"NO talking! No socialising." The guard then lead Alex out. "Don't talk to the other guys here. Just keep your head down. OK, Kid?"

Alex just shrugged. So he was in Solitary Confinement.

...

Yusaf El Habib was a law student. His student visa had been withdrawn and he was awaiting deportation back to Egypt. He had been detained under a general security restriction, a wide trawl to remove all possible national security threats. Yusaf was a Coordinator with Al-Qaeda, his time in detention here had been usefully spent converting others to the cause. He had deliberately talked to the blond haired boy in solitary. Could this be the child assassin who had removed the problem of Razim the traitor in June? His commander would need to know, this child would be an asset to be acquired. They may even just want to help this unknown operative to settle the debt of honour. Razim's betrayal had hurt his organisation deeply. That back stabbing Iraqi had stolen funds, taken a number of good men with him to join Scorpia, now he was in hell. The child in detention was an enemy of their enemy, so maybe therefore a friend. Yusaf would write in code to his lawyer, who would visit. The fact Alex Rider was being held at the Federal Detention Facility at Meadow Falls, Montana was no longer a secret.

...

That afternoon, Alex was given a new set of self-study books. The guard then stated, "a tutor will come on Tuesdays and Thursdays". With nothing else to do, the young English boy studied hard. The next day a middle aged man went through his schedule and discussed grades, SATs, assessment and test schedules.

Alex wanted to be a good student but his future was now bleak. The black and white situation of detention or certain death. "What's the point if I'm here. Do I pass High School and go one straight to a self study degree?"

The man looked uncomfortable, unable to give a straight answer. "Umm, I can't answer that."

Alex settled on not giving any details about himself to anyone. After five days, he missed fresh air, exercise and the sun.


	2. Chapter 2

After his realisation his life was reduced to four walls and the occasional shower, Alex had started to exercise in the limited space of his cell. Two hours every day running hard on the spot for cardiovasular workout, a routine of stretches, press ups, sit ups and pull ups for muscle tone and katas for calm and getting in the zone. He had read a book on how the great Nelson Mandela had survived in prison. Anger and negative emotions served no purpose. He was always calm and polite to the guards. He decided to fast on and meditate on Thursdays. He asked for nothing, comfortable with the bare minimum supplied. His hours studying hard with schoolwork. His tutor impressed and happy with his efforts. He also went over his lessons learned at Malagasto. He had learnt there techniques for survival, he compartmentalised his thoughts and feelings, justifications and consequences. He also went through combat, weapons, stealth and tactics. His perfect recall, he could revisit each lesson and assess where he needed to concentrate his self study regime.

...

Alex Rider was observed by the guards. He was the youngest detainee in a whole faciilty for adult males. He was down as a high security inmate in solitary for his own protection and no contact with others. He had been supplied with basics for personal hygiene and for his education but after his initial request for a phone call had not asked for a single thing.

Mike knew how most of the other detainees listed their rights, complained and whined about everything. Most decorated their cells, made them home. Cell 15A in Solitary was stark and blank. The kids books and notes a small, neat pile in the corner away from the toilet. The fifteen year old English kid said nothing about himself. Never complained and stuck to his imposed routine like clockwork. He thanked the staff but never chatted. The kids demeanor had changed from confused and frightened to calm and resigned. Mike Delaney had tried to talk to the kid about his family, but all the boy had replied was that was all in the past. There was only here and now. It was chilling to hear, but the kid was not suicidal, quite the opposite, completely adapted to his environment, a true survivor.

...

The weeks passed into months. The centre was an enclosed cube of temperature control and fixed artificially lit days and bleak nights interspaced with the regular checks from the guards. Alex had only observed the other inmates at a distance during his twice a week showers. He had not spoken to any since that first shower, he had waved at the tall dark haired stranger every time he had seen him in the group that followed his early morning ablutions on Monday morning and Thursday evening .

Alex kept a brief journal in code just to keep a diary of unimportant details like the fact he had started to grow fuzz on his chin. He was growing up, becoming a man. In late november, he had a major change in his routine, as he was taken to the nurses room for a doctors and dental appointment.

He passively endured the prodding and poking. He answered the questions from the health professionals with a simple yes or no. Then came the psychological assessment and the dreaded ink-blots. Alex looked at the pictures and groaned remembering feeling a failure over his half-arsed answers to Steiner during his brief sojourn to the dark side. Alex decided to have a laugh. Instead of careful and guarded, Alex went for outlandish, unexpected and completely out of character.

Card One... a splatter of random crap. "Ummm... it looks like my cum splatter when I masturbated this morning. I wank every morning." Alex had developed that routine, guard check at 6am sharp, lights on at 6:15, leisurely wank into the toilet or on the bed depending on his mood. Alex spent most morning naked during his exercise routine. He was likely to die a virgin if he stayed in solitary. He wondered about fucking a guy. No chance of dating girls here. The idea was not revolting. He had even started to fantasize of another guy touching him, making out. He was adapting to life here fully.

With a short scribble the good doctor then carried on. "OK Alex... now this one."

This card was easy, Alex needed no prompts or snappy quips for this mess of black on white. "Map of Europe actually, though Denmark and Scandinavia is a bit wonky."

"And this one."

Alex was getting bored and hoped there was no word association. He decided to play the psycho card. "Oh.. the blood, bone and brain splatter on the pavement after I shot Julius in Cairo. Can I keep that one for the wall of my cell?". Alex smiled widely at that point, as he'd gotten a shocked reaction out of the bastard shrink.

...

The report on Byrne's desk detailed a cold, passive detainee, but the psychologist's report was chilling. Dissociative disorder had developed. The cumulative result of all the training and trauma. Alex's placement with the Pleasure's had been meant to get Alex well and integrated back into society. Plans were to re-ewvaluate Alex after he turned 16. Byrne was now fighting to get Alex out of protective custody and into witness protection. He was loosing the battle as the plain hard facts were that Alex Rider was not to be trusted as a free agent. Mrs. Jones herself had suggested detainment until the treat from Gregorovich was neutralised. Alex was in Montana as a lure for the Russian Assassin. The fact Alex was detained had been slipped out via a small group of detainees. Yassen was obsessed with John Rider's son. He would track the boy down. The trap was baited, it was now a waiting game, but their ploy had victimised Alex. The kid was isolated and in their attempt to protect the boy, they had accomplished the hardening of the teenager into a cold and calculating survivor. If Alex escaped now, they would never get him back on their side.

...

Marika St. Jean-Delacroix was a human rights lawyer working to release several hundred foreign nationals detained as security risks. She visited Montana twice a month, her case load always increasing. She fought for basic rights as well as release. Many were genuine asylum seekers, afraid of deportation. She handed over a series of letter to her first appointment today. At eighteen she had found out she was adopted and had been born in a Palastinian Refugee Camp. She now worked for her people and their fight against injustice.

The visiting room was full of other visitors and the background conversation boisterous and lively. The lawyer was sure she would not be overheard and in a low murmur discussed the main matter at hand with her contact. "The boy in Solitary has been confirmed as Alexander John Rider, only child of the Scorpia Assassin Hunter from your detailed description. He liquidated Julia Rothman, we suspect under orders from Cossack. I have seen the boy's file. He is a wild card, neither Scorpia, the CIA nor MI6 control him. The hit on Razim's apprentice was brutally efficient according to eye witnesses. He was an unarmed prisoner who killed all in his path, using the CIA to obliterate Razim's operation fully. His allegiances are fluid using all to achieve his goals. A perfect assassin, one using such imaginative techniques, killing with any implement to hand. We suspect his failure to eliminate Tulip Jones was part of his plan to take out Nile and Rothman after the power vacuum left by the removal of Max Grendel."

Yusaf sat and read the letter's from his family which contained nothing of importance and no incriminating details. "The boy is kept isolated. I have not been able to talk to him since that first day, but he smiles and waves when he sees me. I chat to the guards but they claim to know nothing. So, this child is definitely the one operating in Cairo." Yusaf wondered on what action his superiors were planning, probably nothing.

"On a more positive note, your professor at Harvard has launched a campaign for your release, which has gained positive publicity. I have a court date next week. I expect your student visa will be reinstated. Your exemplary academic record speaks for itself, as does your application for US citizenship. You are have been undetected during your fine recruitment work here, we have gained over ten new recruits here and dozens more in Egypt. You will be required to sleep for a while. I will keep in contact. God be with you, Yusaf"

"And you, Marika."


	3. Chapter 3

September 2002

Mrs. Jones had taken over at Head of Special Operations for MI6 at the Royal and General Bank, in June 2002. Only then had she learned of the survival and imprisonment of the Scorpia Assassin, Yassen Gregorovich. Blunt had kept that asset secret even from his deputy. In early September, she had been to interview the Russian at the MI6 Detainment Facility on the Island South Rona in the Inner Hebrides. He had endured interrogation over months and had actually said very little. He was cold and silent. It was only as she got up to leave did the man speak to her. "I know the resting place of your sons. Rothman kidnapped and murdered them and interred their remains in the crypt of the chapel at Malagosto."

Tulip Jones almost broke down on hearing that news, only her years of training kept her cold and hard crafted visage in place. Her boys, her beautiful twin sons, both dead for fourteen years. Another pair of victims to the Scorpia campaign of terror and revenge. She sat in the Helicopter and composed herself. She would have to speak to her ex-husband. A man who hated her with a passion, even after all these years alone she still ached for her life before she crossed paths with Scorpia. When she had been just an agent, happily married to a Dr. Herod Jones , a cryptology specialist. In 1982, she had been keen to prove she could be the best handler in MI6, when she had ordered John Rider to infiltrate Scorpia. She had given birth to her boys in 1986. Her sons looked after by her mother at her home in Greenwich. In early 1988, her mother had been brutally murdered, her sons taken, missing, assumed dead. Now she knew what she had long suspected, they had died in revenge for her plot to get inside information on Scorpia. She then gently spoke their names, Daniel and Luke. Her dark haired happy boys. She then hardened herself. Sentiment, happiness and a personal life had no place in her chosen career path.

Yassen smiled to himself at that woman's quickly quelled shock reaction at his parting revelation about Julia Rothman's murder of two innocent children. That bitch had failed John and he reminded her of the cost of her failure. It had not been compassion to tell Tulip Jones the resting place of her cildren's remains but Yassen had stuck in the only barb in his possession to hurt that woman. His time as a prisoner of MI6 was drawing to a close. Imprisonment on the Rock in Gibraltar had been impregnable, only one way in or out of that compound. He had endured there. He had welcomed his move to Scotland, after the incident with Julius Grief. Yassen had overheard snippets of information about Alex's doppelgänger's death in Cairo. Here, on this island he could roam around and assess the myriad of possibilities for escape. An island surrounded by the forbidding North Atlantic and bleak open landscape of a barren windswept moor was his new prison. He judged the current in the channel to the mainland, to Raasay and to Skye, considering his options. Here, he could escape. The helicopter was the most tempting route. He would have enough petrol to fly to the Republic of Ireland, where he had contacts, a hidden stash of weapons, passports and cash in a safehouse. He would kill the guards and the pilot tomorrow and be free.

...

November 2002

Yassen Gregorovich stood over the bodies of Giovanni and Eduardo Grimaldi. The shattered remains of Scorpia had been consolidated under the command of these two Italian thugs. Now, the russian assassin had the means to bring an end to the death and betrayal in his lonely life. He had found out that Little Alex had been used and nearly killed by the sadistic bitch Julia Rothman. Only John's beautiful son had turned trumps on her and her obnoxious bodyguard, Niles. Yassen would go to Geneva and use his new found wealth and prosperity to actually retire from the Game. He now wished he had listened to Hunter. The english soldier's warnings and hints had been his attempt to persuade a Russian teenager not to enter Scorpia's world or deceit and lies. The Russian now realised he'd been blind to all the clues. It had been Julia Rothman who had murdered his beloved John.

Yassen had plans still to make. Dr. Three was still alive and an unknown quantity in this new world. Yassen wondered if he could work with the good doctor. The Grimaldi's had made the mistake of trying to kill their one time best assassin. Yassen turned his mind back to the task at hand as he set the plastic explosive on a five minute timer. The explosion would cover his tracks. The Police would suspect the murders a mafia takeout. The Russian, then itched the healing skin from his recent plastic surgery. His face now subtly different. His mannerisms changed, his eyes now masked in grey-blue contacts, his hair grey, not blond. He looked like a fit and older Dane, as his passport proclaimed him to be. Geneva first, then China, only then could he help Alex get out of his American prison. Yassen could guess it was a trap, he would have to plan his moves carefully as he was never going to endure imprisonment again. He empathised with young Alex. The poor boy had survived against all odds when Rothman, Wu and Kurst had planned to kill him. Dr. Three was only alive because he had not directly threatened Yassen nor Alex Rider.

...

Christmas Eve 2002, 8am in the morning and a naked Alex Rider was exercising in his cell and had increased his repartitions by another fifty, his Christmas present to himself, the pain and burn of endurance training to take his mind off the holidays and thoughts of Sabina, Liz and Edward. Mike the guard broke his routine to open the door. "What do you want for Christmas, Alex?"

He did not stop his press-ups, uncaring at his nakedness. Alex so wanted to be sarcastic but refrained and thought about what was actually possible. "Is there an exercise yard here? You know outside?"

"Yeah, there is."

"I'd like to go out in daylight. Have a run. Maybe even a game of football, I mean soccer. That would be cool."

"I'll see what I can arrange, Ok"

"Thanks Mike."

It almost broke the guard's heart, this kid was in protective custody but was being treated worse than most of the rag-heads in main population. The kid had not made any attempts to request a lawyer, to send letters to friends or family, to ask for decent food, magazines, or any entertainment, even to watch TV. This was the first time he'd known the kid liked sports, then again those Europeans were nuts for soccer.

...

Edward Pleasure had exhausted his contacts for information on Alex Rider. A Threat to National Security, how could a fifteen year old just disappear and no one raise a voice in protest. He had taken the hints from the consulate to drop his active pursuit of this story, but it wasn't a story. Alex had been their foster son, only that had meant nothing. Alex was now a non-person, erased from all records Edward could access. A friend of a friend who worked for Al Jeezera had heard a rumour about a kid in detention but had no concrete facts. Alex could be in military detention anywhere from Alaska to Cuba. It was going to be a subdued and solemn Christmas this year. The table would be set for Alex, there would be presents under the tree for their missing son. They would remember him. Edward was living his nightmare, his freedom, his life and his government's security came at the cost of an innocent boy's illegal detention.

It was late. Liz and Sabina were helping out at the local homeless refuge. His wife and child filled their hours with charity work to help with their total powerlessness over losing Alex. Edward shivered. It was cold outside and he had suddenly felt a draft. He went downstairs to check if the girls were early only to see a stranger standing in the hall.

"Good Evening . I am here to assist you in helping free Alex Rider. What I proposed is an exchange of information. I need to know why the Americans are wishing to use Alex to bait a trap for Yassen Gregorovich."


	4. Chapter 4

8am Christmas morning. Alex knew from the general routine that breakfast was over. All detainees were in their cells. It was another couple of hours before visiting, exercise and other luxuries allowed for the general population. Mike Delaney opened the door of Cell 15A. The guard had a soccer ball in his arms and a warm jacket and boots for Alex to wear. "You get your Christmas wish. We had to get agreement from Washington but today you get to go outside." The rules were that Solitary was only used here for violent or suicidal detainees. It was not meant for long term detainment, just days or at worst a couple of weeks. Alex had been here for twelve weeks, with no suggestion of that situation changing.

The sky was grey and bleak, no sun. The yard had a fresh undisturbed covering of fine powder snow. The air was bitter and cold. Alex's first intake of the fresh air actually was cold enough to hurt. He stepped into the yard and stood and experienced this small freedom. His first step outside since September. A few flakes of snow were falling and Alex, lay down to make snow angels, just to see Mike laugh at his antics. He was allotted 40 minutes outside. In this cold, he'd probably freeze if he stayed out any longer. His only view was walls, guards, wire and grey sky. Alex wondered if he'd get out for a stroll for his sixteenth birthday, but that milestone promised a transfer to the big league maximum security prisons at Guantanamo or Fort Leavenworth. He kicked the ball about with Mike, making the middle aged father of three girls, red faced and out of breath.

Alex shook his head as he collected the ball before going inside again. "I wanted to play soccer professionally, you know, after I left school. Just think, two years ago I got an offer of an apprenticeship with Fulham Football Club, my bastard uncle told them to sod off."

Mike pondered that personal statement. Uncle not father and the fact the kid had used the past tense and dismissed that hope and dream.

Alex then added. "My ankle is killing me. I broke badly last year in Kenya. Pinned and everything. Can I have some nurofen?"

"I'll get the doc to check you out. Come on lets get to medical."

...

His contact had been a political officer for Hamas in the good old days and now was affiliated to the Al-Qaeda. Yassen now knew of Alex's fate, John's child was detained in Montana in High Security at a Department of Immigration Facility. The last place anyone would look for a Spy. Yassen wondered on using a simple detraction technique to get John's son out. He pondered his option. He had been given a disc containing all the details of Alex's operations by a very helpful Edward Pleasure. Not that Yassen had let the man know his real identity. He had played the old friend of John Rider's looking out for his son, he may have suggested he was ex- Army. With a smattering of correct slang you gave just the right impression.

With make-up, dyed black hair and dark contacts, Yassen had transformed Ding Sanchez a contract cleaning operative at Meadow Falls Detention Facility. The real Domingo Sanchez, divorced loner was taking a long sleep and would not be spoiling the Assassin's plans. The man was almost a perfect physical match. As a low level cleaning contractor, no one paid much attention to the Texan of spanish descent, who had no friends despite working there for nearly ten months, a temporary job just until something better came along. The man not really caring since his nagging wife had left him. Yassen did not even have to try hard to swap shits to high security. No one liked cleaning those cells. Too much chance of vomit, blood and worse.

Yassen was keeping his plans simple and with no associates, there was no chance of betrayal. Knowing a trap was there was the first step to avoiding it and after four months he would expect the surveillance and security measures would have lessened thinking Yassen had gone to ground after his take out of the Grimaldi's, rather than going after Alex Rider.

...

Alex knew his cell was cleaned twice a week during his allotted ten minutes getting a lukewarm shower, shave and hairwash. In mid January a note had been left in his journal. Written in Edward's neat flowing script, with a key code phrase only Edward would know from their journey from London to San Francisco. An escape plan for the next day. Alex closed his eyes and lay back on his bed. He meditated to clear his mind and emotions. At lunch he complained of stomach ache and feeling a bit off, but rejected a trip to medical and stated he probably needed a big poo.

At 6am, he ingested the note as the basic code had instructed. Whatever the paper was coated with, it started working pretty quick. The guard noted the vomit on the floor. The kid was sweating and curled up in pain on the bed, groaning. The medical technician stated it was an acute appendicitus and why hadn't the guards called this in during the night before the kid became critical. The Prison car with two guards exited the facility at 6:32am for the hospital 20 miles away at Great Falls.

The car never arrived at its destination. At 7:45 the local sheriff came across the Department of Immigration Car containing two dead guards, each with a single bullet wound to the head. The car had signs of breaking suddenly. On the seat were a pair of wrist and ankle chains and the remains of an orange jumpsuit.

...

By 8am, 16th January 2003 news of Alexander Rider's abduction made it to Washington. The scenario meant there had been an inside job. The only employee not at work was a contract cleaner with no known criminal associates and a clean record.

...

Joe Byrne heard the news within three hours at his base in Lahore. He kept his thoughts to himself, on reading the e-mail. He had tried to get Alex placed back with the Pleasures and his objections and criticisms of the honey trap had been ignored, even after surveillance of the Detention Centre had been downgraded in November, Alex had stayed in solitary. Worst of all, intelligence from agents in place with Hamas in Gaza had noted Al-Qaeda knew of the child 'assassin' at the Facility in Montana. If Hamas knew, the few remaining assets with Scorpia knew. Alex was either being offered work as a free agent now or was about to suffer for his previous work. Byrne hoped Alex would find a way to avoid the same fate as his father or worse become Yassen's successor as a killer for hire.

The Deputy Director of Covert Operations went to the Communications Officer "Drake, I need an untraceable line, fully scrambled and this call is not to go on any logs. Its to an unsecured private mobile. One of the US networks, San Francisco Area."

"Sure thing, Joe. I'll take about five minutes to cut through out our friends at the NSA." The officer then frantically typed code and piggybacked across the global telecommunications network.

Three rings and Edward Pleasure picked up. "Hi. Edward, its Joe Byrne. Alex has been abducted after a medical emergency. We think it was a planned breakout with Alex's full cooperation."

"I know. Don't ask any details, but a friend of John Rider heard about your hospitality and he spoke to me in December about freeing Alex before his sixteenth birthday as the rumour going around was that Alex was headed for an indefinite stay at Guantanamo Bay." Edward then added. "I was told to expect a confirmation that Alex was well before he started a new life. You made sure Alex could never be a normal kid, so I hope you never catch up with him. Goodbye Mr. Byrne I can't say its been a pleasure knowing you. Don't call me again because I will not be calling you."

Joe Byrne then knew precisely who had visited. Not MI6, not SAS or Army but the one person who through everything called Hunter a friend. His protege and apprentice, Cossack. Edward would not have recognised the man if he'd been disguised and in full legend. Yassen Gregorovich was a professional ghost. Before his capture there had been a couple of blurry photos on file. The mug shots would mean the man would already have had plastic surgery.


	5. Chapter 5

The large truck was stopped at the border on the Interstate 15 between the United States and Canada. The diver had a US passport and driving license, the truck had Montana plates. It was practically waved through at 9am on a bright and cold January morning. The border guard not seeing past the hat, sun glasses and plaid shirt. It was another two hours, before an alert raised the alarm, but by then the truck was abandoned at a remote farm at Canmore. The owner was a local farmer in Great Falls, who had been away for three days unaware his truck had been borrowed the previous night. The farmer, who kept all his documentation in the glove box for his frequent trips north hunting.

Montana within hours was swarming with Agents of Department of National Security, who annoyed the local sheriff. The problem was the trail was already cold. A stolen truck from Great Falls had been found a Cranmore, but the Canadian Police stated the truck was clean of DNA, trace evidence and fingerprints. Local police put this theft down to minor crime, joyriders, not terrorists. The murder of two Guards in Montana remained unsolved, with no leads except the Local Police Warrant issued for Alexander John Rider, 15. Their only witness to the crime. The Sherriff of Meadow Falls was the only one to ask why a fifteen year was detained at an adult facility. The fact made it into print in the local paper the Great Falls Inquirer.

At the Royal and General, no hits noted for Alex Rider or Yassen Gregorovich despite an international terror alert. The facts state the two fugitives were no longer in the United States of America. There are bigger fish to fry and other security alerts take precedence of time and resources.

...

Yassen watched a sleeping Alex Rider in the apartment in Vancouver and thought back to his own imprisonment, where the silent assassin had watched another boy imprisoned on the Rock in Gibraltar, the one with Alex's face. He had initially be shocked but Julius Grief had shown no glimmer of recognition at the Russian. He had made a study of that pale imitation of John Rider's son. The clone was bitter, psychopathic, bent on revenge and so full of his own superior intelligence and skill, when that thing was nothing in reality. It had been so reassuring to see the fire in Alex's brown eyes, even in agony he had known the identity of his disguised rescuer. Yassen had immediately injected with the antidote to the poison into the boy's arm and then sedated him for the escape. Alex was still sleeping off the after-effects of the drugs in his system.

Yassen planned to lay low here in Canada for three weeks, he already had passage to Japan booked on a freighter. He had already decided on both their legends, wit accompanying paperwork and simple disguises worked out. The young man on the bed was snoring. Despite his imprisonment in solitary, Alex was in good shape. He had kept himself fit. They had only spoken briefly during meals, where Alex ate heartily, only requesting spicy and italian food after months of bland American prison food.

...

Edward Pleasure sat in a large plaza in the centre of Vancouver. He was meeting a new contact. The journalist was busy compiling data for a book on rendition, illegal detention and torture in the supposed democratic west. It was almost like spying, his only clue to his target was that the man would approach Edward, and may not show at all if spooked. A dark haired young man approached, all bad posture and dressed in a loud tracksuit bottoms, nike trainers and hoody and designer sunglasses, who proceeded to sit down on the bench, listening to loud hip-hop on his ipod. Edward was annoyed by the noise when the youth switched off the music and spoke softly. "How have you been Edward? I have to say I have missed you guys so much."

"Alex?" Edward started to turn to take a good look at the foster son he had just not recognised at all.

"Don't turn to look at me. Don't make any indication that you know me. Just look bored, but annoyed is just as good. We can talk but this is just a short meeting. I'm off to pastures new. New face, new documents, new location. Alex Rider is dead and gone, Edward. Just let me know you are alright. Those bastards aren't making life difficult for you?"

"We all fit and healthy. I know I'm only a low level target. I may be tailed but I doubt it. My phones, email and post are checked and monitored. As for the family its been a horrendous few months. We were given no information about you, just you were in protective custody. They search your room, took all your stuff." Edward paused and cleaned his glasses to try and hide his raw emotions. "Christmas was hard to tell you the truth. I can't imagine what it was like for you. We are planning to celebrate your sixteenth birthday next week. Sabina is in contact with Tom Harris, most of your classmates from Point Blanc and Paul Drevin. Tom is living in Italy with his brother. He likes it there. Liz is going to be so upset not seeing you again. I wish I could say more good things about Sabina, but she is dating an absolute horror at the moment."

Alex smiled trying to imagine some wide boy, pot head or punk. "Ex-con, druggie or pikey?"

"Ummm, young republican, member of the local country club and utter WASP. Opinionated, rich and obnoxious." Edward exhaled. "Also into the right to bear arms. Richie Rich thinks I'm a commie."

"And Sabina likes him?"

"He looks like you."

"Ohh! Crap! Sorry. I guess its a rebound job then. Just be thankful, he's better than me, I'm Public Enemy No.1" Alex then put a computer stick on the bench. "Some notes on my time inside and my life up to that point, including all the details I previously left out because of OSA. I guess I'm done keeping quiet and being a good boy for those bastards. There's also a bunch of stuff in there about my dad and his time with Scorpia. It all interconnects. So its the start of a few stories, there." Alex then switched the music back on. "Goodbye Edward, Good Luck. Have a nice life. I plan to have a very quiet one."


	6. Chapter 6

Alex packed a case of strange clothes, all tailored to his legend, Eduardo De Santos, Brazilian, 22. Born Rio de Janiero. Just finished a fashion degree in Toronto. Traveling to Japan with his companion, Julian Mulholland. Alex finished his super neat job. He looked in the mirror , his hair dark, styled and straight. His face still had the softness of a teenager, just starting to change into a man. He was also growing. The next two weeks would be a test of his skills. He could not be sullen, introspective and unemotional. He went into the main room and confronted Yassen with his concerns.

"For this legend to work we need to be real on that boat."

"I don't understand your concerns. We are close, we have shared this space for two weeks with no problems. On board the ship will be no different."

"We are meant to be in a loving relationship... a sexual relationship." Alex rubbed his face and then moved closer to the assassin, into his personal space. The young man, still two days away from his sixteenth birthday was almost as tall as Yassen. "That kind of closeness cannot be faked easily. How can I fake it when I have never had a close sexual relationship." Alex relaxed and raw emotion played on his face, insecurity and bashfulness. He had just embarrassed himself completely by admitting he was a complete and utter virgin.

Alex then continued. "Are you sexual attracted to me at all?" Alex had wondered on the man who was careful to wash and dress in private. Even though he had seen Alex naked.

Yassen looked at this boy, no Alex was a man, as this life left no options for innocence. A frown marred Yassen's normally calm face "Working for Scorpia, I never mixed my emotions with sexual relief. I meant it when I said I Love you two years ago. I love you whatever you can accept from me, mentor, friend or lover." Yassen then neutralised his expression and shrugged, "We either play this as close friends, but if we venture into this as lovers. I will be possessive, jealous and controlling, it is my nature." Yassen then turned away from Alex and in a soft tone tried to explain his own life. "I lost my innocence on the streets on Moscow. I prefer sex with males but I am also attracted to females. You were attracted to Sabina were you not?"

Alex moved to touch his companion, his rescuer, to look into his eyes, to show Yassen there was no artifice, no lies. "What happened before is in the past. Ian, Sabina, Tom and Jack, gone, forgotten. Sabina has moved on, so have I. I had to in that place. I thought sex and relationships were never going to happen. You saved me from that fate. You are here. You are my reality. My entire world. Aren't you meant to give your virginity to someone who loves you. It is all I can give you."

Yassen, with that direct affirmation of mutual attraction and consent, there was no holding the Russian back. He touched Alex's face softly. "I want you. I want this between us to be our lives together. I no longer need nor want the solitary life of a contract killer."

Alex did not want t discuss the future. All that mattered was here in this room. Tomorrow, it could all go pear shaped. Both of them were wanted fugitives with full terrorist status. Moving across international borders was no laughing matter. Alex blushed and then kissed Yassen lightly on the lips. "I want you. Can I... can I go first?"

Alex knelt down, just to emphasize exactly what he was going to do. "I've never done this, so tell me if I'm doing it all wrong." Alex had a good idea what to do from his own experiences wanking himself. It was like unwrapping a present as he pulled down the zip of Yassen's trousers, the lowering both the trouseers and boxers to see the man's crown jewels in all their glory. Alex had never really thought about this before Montana. He licked his lips and looked up to see Yassen watching him, his eyes full of intense lust.

The feel, the taste, the smell was all new as Alex tentatively tasted his first up close and personal encounter with another man's cock and balls. Alex used his lips and tongue to provide stimulation and wished he'd been more attentive in sex-ed, not that sex education at Brookland covered homosexual sex. He heard Yassen's groans and small thrusts forward and used his hand to touch the smooth inner thighs, the heavy testes and the hot hard cock, he was attempting to swallow. He sucked in air and the action caused his lover to grab his hair and thrust forward. Alex guessed he was on the right track and continued varying his technique.

The ex-assassin mumbled in low tone a phrase in Russian. Alex then panicked, to swallow, spit or withdraw. He looked up and saw Yassen in the throes of ecstasy. It was a wonderful sight. Alex had made Yassen lose all composure. He was seeing into this man's inner soul. No masks were visible, only base human emotions and responses. This was truth. No lies, hurt or betrayal with Yassen. Alex continued to suck until his mouth was filled with salty cum. He instinctively swallowed. Some of the liquid escaped to coat Alex's lips and chin. The sated older man pulled back and stumbled into a seat and laughed, a sound of pure joy.

"I never expected you to take the initiative. God, that was wonderful." Yassen then looked up to take in the sinful sight of Alex using his finger to mop up the spilled semen and then lick the fluid off his fingers and finally suck the digits, totally oblivious to the wanton image he was projecting. The russian was fixated on the swollen lips and the flushed look on Alex's face. He smiled to himself with the thought of Alex, his lover. He then pulled up and closed his trousers to crawl over to the still kneeling young man and then kissed him deeply. He broke into a smile as Alex returned the kiss with passion. The russian then felt through Alex's track suit bottoms and traced his lover's erection.

Alex broke the kiss and rested his head on Yassen's shoulder. "God, don't stop. I feel like I could burst." He bit his lip as his orgasm coiled in his gut. He had just participated in penetrative sex. He was no longer a virgin. Alex had sucked cock and he had liked it. The wave of pleasure was mind blowing. The act of being wanked by another was so much more than doing it yourself. With no eneergy but to lie on the floor Alex wondered in the next step. "You prefer to top don't you?"

"Yes, I like control. I will be a good and gentle lover as anal sex can be uncomfortable, even dangerous if not done with care. I will explain all as I think you need to be educated on all that two males can enjoy."

"I know very little about females as well. Shit Yassen, I never even had a stash of porn." Alex had wondered on this, but those magazines always seemed a bit clinical. He'd seen enough to wank material living with Jack, with her skimpy outfits and habit of wandering around in a towel after a shower. Alex had always felt slightly dirty about wanking to thoughts of Jack, but it wasn't like they were related and she was a walking sexual fantasy rather than stiff, cold or just plain tacky photos in that type of magazine.


	7. Chapter 7

Alex ran down the corridor, careful to make little noise in his slippered feet. He stopped by the unadorned door, took two deep calming breaths and then knocked lightly. The lock clicked open and Alex entered. The room was ordered bright and clean. Dr. Three's personal space was minimalist and functional.

The young man with dyed blue-black hair bowed deeply in respect and spoke in faultless Mandarin "You wished to see me, honourable Doctor."

"Cossack is on his way. His plane landed at Hanoi two hours ago. We have a Board Meeting to attend." The old man picked up his cane and held out his hand. Alex had grown to respect this man despite his scary reputation. The Old Chinese man was a Doctor of Medicine and Psychology. He had helped the young man settle and accept a life very different to the one he had hoped for. Alex worked and was an essential part of the new Scorpia. An organisation to provide discrete services including training, money exchange, information retrieval and of course the removal of problems. Alex was now firmly on the wrong side of the law, but was not as yet as operational asset. He was Dr. Three's assistant. The old man feeling his age and training Alex as an apprentice, teaching him management, politics, manipulation as well as operational training in explosives, poisons, hand to hand combat, weapons and interrogation. Alex had been betrayed by the western governments, who he had fought and bled for. He had a new family, small close knit and rising from the destruction caused by internal in-fighting.

Dr. Three had disagreed with the decisions of both Zeljan Kurst and Julia Rothman over the Rider child. The boy had been ready to join them in 2001 and would have been a prized asset then, accept for that woman's abominable actions, which unsurprisingly had led to her death. Kurst had grabbed the helm and in his bid for power had tried to undermine Dr. Three by hiring another interrogation specialist, the Iraqi butcher, Razim. That had ended with Razim's death and Kurst's imprisonment. Scorpia had fractured into splinter's under the control of various operatives, until Cossack had emerged from his interment and taken charge.

Alex was still under eighteen, assured a safe haven and undetected here on this Scorpia base, on an island gifted to the good doctor for his help freeing Vietnam from imperialist foreign influence, located off North Vietnam in the South China Sea. Most who worked here were North Vietnamese, in security, cleaning and catering. The specialist staff came from all over the world, known only be codename. Here, the seventeen year old ex-spy was only called Alex by Yassen and only in privacy of their shared quarters. All others only knew him as Prometheus. He dyed his hair, wore glasses, used make-up to hide his freckles and to mask his natural skin tone and had adopted the polite mannerisms of the good doctor. Most thought him Siberian or some mix of asian and european. How wrong they were. Most did not even consider the young man other than as a student.

The Board now four old members, the chairman was Dr. Three, Cossack acting as his deputy, spending his time networking with existing customers or sourcing new clients. Dr. Thi Ahn was a brilliant economist and specialist in world banking and the legal and illegal transfer of funds or money laundering and investments. Scorpia invested its profits widely. The fourth board member was on the surface a legitimate businessman, owner of a world renown shipping line and international mail company, Constantine Demetrios. Demetrios had met Cossack seven years before. His wife and child had been kidnapped and the Greek Police had bungled the ransom drop. His family had been murdered as a result. He had used Cossack to exact his revenge. The corrupt Police Chief paid for his mishandling with his blood and screams. The criminals who had murdered his loved ones were killed , only after their families had met the same fate as his wife and son. Demetrios had kept in touch with Cossack and had forged an alliance to help Scorpia rise from the ashes left by the deaths and imprisonment of the previous Board members and to survive in the post 9/11 world.

Alex was to attend the Board meeting as a non-participant. He was trusted as a kind of secretary. Alex took neat notes in his own version of shorthand, today's agenda was a fifth board member was being evaluated. Miriam Conti had contacted Cossack, the woman was an arms dealer with contacts across Europe, South America, the middle east and Africa.

Dr. Three listened to the pros and cons of an additional member, the idea of staying a small and well-run unit posed less problems of power grabbing individuals in the future.

Cossack smiled like a shark at Dr. Three's question. "Mrs. Conti is of course a Mossad agent. Like Kroll before her, they want to keep tabs on us. Not of course to stop business, just to know what we are up to, who we are training and what we are training these people to do." Cossack knew that Mossad was always a direct threat, they had a very proactive stance against anyone who threatened them with the attitude 'Cross us and sweep up the remains we choose to leave'. In some ways Scorpia was just a freelance agency, but without the problems caused by national, political, religious or cultural differences.

The chinese man smiled, "I was waiting for them to approach us after Kroll's unfortunate demise". Dr. Three then drank from his glass of water. "I concur and agree to Cossack recommendation. Lets vote."

Four hands were raised. The motion passed.

"I must meet her. I will take Prometheus with me for his judgement." The doctor stood, the meeting over. Each member working as a loose partnership, responsible for their own projects.

Alex finished his notes and the documents were sent to each director for approval and any amendments. He cleaned and tidied his small office and was looking forward to time alone with his lover.

Yassen entered his allotted quarters. Luxurious and spacious in accordance with his station as Director of Operations. He ran a small team of assassins, couriers and various technical specialists. He was only occasionally at the sharp end now, mostly only to recover valuable information or to make a specific contact. He was silent and carefully observed the room. Alex had been meditating, but was aware someone had entered the room. The young man smiled and stood up.

"You are still dying your hair." It was the one thing Yassen disliked about Alex's new appearance. He had expected Alex to go back to his natural appearance but the boy had continued to disguise his appearance.

"Well, I fit in better here. Blond stands out." Alex stated as most of the bases personnel were ethnically asian.

"I like your blond hair, you have nothing to fear here." Yassen then stroked the dark smooth hair. "Anyway, you will be meeting Mrs. Conti with Dr. Three. Your first outing since your arrived here."

"I've been to Hanoi with you, several times" Alex had been to the cinema twice in eighteen months and shopping once.

"That hardly counts. You are the good doctors chosen successor. He sings your praises, especially your patience and calmness with interrogations. He thought you might be squeamish." The fact Alex had fallen under Dr. Three's wing had surprised even Cossack, then again Alex was not the same child he had left on Air Force One. The intervening eighteen months had broken a child and molded the man that he loved.

"Hardly after surviving Razim. Its all very analytical, with pain, drugs and manipulation. Not rocket science, just very methodical." Alex knew he was perfectly detached. His job and his emotions were in two very separate boxes.

"I watched the tapes of you breaking that chinese agent. It was mesmerising." Cossack had grown hard and wanked watching Alex work.

"Watching my arse, more like. I confess I do like it when you watch me". Acting coy Alex asked in a breathy deep whisper, "Do I still hold your attention? Am I still worth all the pain I caused?"

Cossack had the calculating cold mask on his face. His attention fully fixed on little Alex. Grown into a tall, sinewy man, strong, self assured but hidden for all others behind his cold exterior. "I would destroy all for you, my love. I have missed you so. Come and greet me properly."

Alex rather than run and embrace his lover decided to play one of Cossack's favourite games. The teenager stripped off his t-shirt and loose jogging bottoms, to be completely naked. He then knelt, head bowed in subservience. He knew his lover like control, he was signaling his complete acceptance of anything Yassen wanted to do. The ex-spy had no qualms over games, bondage or mixing pleasure with pain. Not with Yassen, he trusted Yassen above and beyond his own welfare. He had meant it when he had said that russian was his world. Alex Rider had been a student, Prometheus was here and owed Yassen everything. Neither were open with their affection and attraction outside of these rooms, but all on base knew not to cross either of them. Alex's youth and slight stature had caused a few tense moments when he first arrived, but he was no longer a pawn or held back by a conscience. You lived by hard rues, you could expect to die by them. He had broken one guard's hand and was in the process of breaking his fingers, when stopped by Dr. Three. The next tormentor proved to be Alex's guinea pig when relearning the fine application of pressure point manipulation to inflict nerve impulse agony. Prometheus had a reputation here as a sadist, an image encouraged by Dr. Three, who no longer physically participated in interrogations.


	8. Chapter 8

Alex dreamt he was lying in his bed in Chelsea. He could here the traffic on the Chelsea Embankment through his open window. It was summer, hot and sticky. Jack was singing in the hall, some trashy Euro tune. Alex woke up, aware of the long lean body sharing his bed. He did not open his eyes, but spent this short amount of time indulging himself with memories of normality. Stupid things, like Jack, despite several years as a housekeeper, still burning every dinner when she tried to do anything adventurous in the oven. The manic cleaning and tidying every friday in time for the weekend. Every Friday they had takeout, but only after all the chores were complete. Even the weekly trips food shopping and pushing a trolley around Waitrose on the Kings Road or Sainsbury's Superstore in Fulham. He missed her so much.

He tended not to dream about Tom, who after the shooting incident had not wanted to hear Alex's excuses for disappeared again. According to Tom, Alex should have been there to get him to hospital, to visit him and bring him grapes, to act like Tom's real friends did. His dreams about the Pleasures tended to be nightmares of them being threatened and blackmailed into silence by MI6 and the CIA. To be used to trap him. Alex knew the past was gone, but not forgotten. He opened his eyes to take in the white ceiling and undecorated walls of their quarters. Even here, there were no personal touches, no decorations or photos. The only connection between Alex and Yashka was touch, sensation and the fact they were everything to each other. They had both lost everything, and found each other.

The entire base was constructed below ground in the 1960's, to prevent air attacks. So the bedroom had no natural light, so was dark unless Alex switched on a light. Dimmer switches meant there was no harsh glare, just enough light to to illuminate the bedroom. Alex watched his Yashka, the centre of his universe, sleep. He'd found out last year that Yassen was not his lover's given name. The fact the Russian proved to be passionate and affectionate when all secrets were told. No lies, not here; but here was still a place with no emotional connection for Alex. Yasha was his, but here was just a place to exist, not home. He had not had a home since Jack died. Alex wanted the chance of a life, a normal life, a small apartment in London or Paris, living like real people but that was a pipe dream. He would forever be watching his back, on the run. He would never escape the life Ian had forced on to him.

"Good morning, Alex darling." Yassen moved to kiss his partner, knowing the look in Alex's eye was one of unresolved hurt. The russian was not surprised when his young lover deepened the kiss, clinging onto him, like he was a life line. Yassen moved to dominate, his morning erection seeking friction.

Alex without prompting parted his legs, exposing himself. His own hand snaking back to finger his anus, to loosen himself, giving his body to his lover. Loosing all sadness and longing in the oblivion of passion and sex. Alex was thankful that Yassen was a gifted, passionate and considerate lover, except when Alex signaled no holds barred, like last night. Alex was still sore from the rough handling, with bruises littering his body. Each mark was a confirmation that Alex was everything to Yassen. The cold assassin had broken years of programing to be cold and detached, to fall in love with a teenager.

As Yassen pushed into the tight heat, his hand gripped the black dyed hair on Alex's head as the man stilled, fully seated. He kissed Alex's ear lobe and whispered "No more hiding, little one. I want to see my Alex back. No more disguises here. You are to be a full operative. You need no masks except our professional ones. Please be my blond English lover. For me?"

Alex gasped at the pleasure of being owned by this man and the pain, simple. The seventeen year old had like the anonymity of his bland visage. Yassen wanted Alex back fully, part of the game. He did not answer the request. Later he would strip the dye out of his hair and let the Yashka cut the long mess.

As the russian cut his lover's hair short and neat. No long bands to cover his face, dark blond and soft hair, which would lighten in the sun. Today a very different Prometheus would emerge, one no longer just an assistant or a student of Dr. Three but a full operative of Scorpia. Alex would now earn money. It meant the chance of a life beyond these walls.

The tall young man in the mirror brushed off the loose hairs on his shoulders. Yassen then asked, "I sometimes think I have trapped you here. That I have become like Sharkovsky, your jailer, your owner. That you wish to be free."

Alex smiled and his face was illuminated with mirth as he shook his head " How can you compare here with your slavery in Russia? You are nothing like that bastard. You saved me from that fate, from imprisonment by the Americans and the British. Here I can stay as Dr. Three's assistant or work with whoever. It is a job, paid employment. I know I am on par with the recruits who you train here. I could work anywhere. I only ask for time with you, whenever possible. You are everything to me."

Yassen moved forward to embrace his love. "I enjoy my work. Finding recruits and new contacts. I am a people person, so different from before. I have changed. I had hoped you had not, but you are strong, capable and, thank the heavens, mine."

...

Dr. Three watched as Alex closely as he packed the old man's bag. The doctor could tell the seventeen year old was sore, tired, but successfully masking his discomfort with his blank facial expression.

"You have a new passport, from Singapore. Please note the name and legend. We are travelling by Mrs. Conti's personal business jet to her home on Cyprus. I can not foresee any problems. You must not worry about facial recognition, you have changed into a fine adult. All images held by the authorities, you were still a child."

Alex shrugged, it was typical for the Doctor to note his fears, to face them was safer than internalizing his concerns "I am not worried, it just a big step. Like leaving the nest." The seventeen year old in the last eighteen months had grown by 6 cms, gained over 30lbs in muscle and had surgery to change his fingerprints subtly. He wore standard issue specialist contacts to mask a retinal scan. No cursory check would flag him as Alex Rider.

...

Tulip Jones packed away her personal items from her desk, she was moving up and out to head Operations at MI6 Headquarters at Albert Embankment. She was in line to make it to Head of SIS, the only thing that preyed on her conscience was the disappearance of John Rider's son. Alex's inheritance was on hold, his status was officially missing presumed dead. Not one sighting, no communications with friends. She suspected Joe Byrne had information as the man had not pushed for a search or any investigation. He was due to retire in four weeks and the man was leaving it all behind, he was divorced and had no children. He was going to work volunteer for the National Park Service in Arizona, give guided tours to tourists. Back to being an ordinary blue collar worker, completely boring. Had Alex done the same? She suspected Yassen Gregorovich wanted revenge on the boy. She knew Scorpia was again up and running under his control. The organisation kept clear of terrorists and governments, supplying the cartels, the mafia and the criminal underworld with specialist for hire services. Never crossing the line to flag up the concerns of government agencies. She had seen blurry photos of Gregorovich in Mexico, Columbia, El Salvador and Russia. Never in Europe or the United States, the man was too guarded to flaunt his luck.

She picked up her last photo frame showing her twin boys on one side and a fourteen year Alex Rider on the other. The last school photograph taken of the boy in last week of February 2001, before Ian's death, before Alex crossed Alan Blunt's path.


	9. Chapter 9

Miriam Conti was a deep cover Mossad agent, working on her legend for years. Her life was this cover. She was an arms and information dealer, she had contacts across the world and now she was going to gain a foothold in Scorpia, following in the footsteps of Levi Kroll. She had contacted Cossack, the former assassin Yassen Gregorovich, via intermediaries and her network of contacts. This meeting was a culmination of months of negotiations, but it was not the russian who was vetting her, but the infamous Dr. Three. She had word from her jet that the man was traveling with his assistant and no other security, which meant the assistant was likely to be a fully trained assassin himself.

She was nervous, but masked it by taking a slow sip of her ice cold water. This meeting was important, she needed to provide intelligence on this new faction of Scorpia. Who were these independent operatives training and how, who were they supplying and with what and what was a threat to Israel. In the past Kroll had done an excellent job of protecting his country's concerns and security from the broad based cartel of independent operatives. The fact the recently escaped assassin Gregorovich had taken control had caught them and their sister agencies in intelligence off guard. Most expected the Russian to go back to undertaking hits, not to take over and reshape Scorpia. Gone were the grandiose operations and schemes, now it was smaller, leaner but just as deadly.

The car pulled into the secluded estate on the northern coast of Cyprus. An old white haired man, crooked with old age was helped out by a young man, blond and tall, like a model. She frowned, did the doctor favour young toys? The assistant was very handsome. Chiseled face with good cheekbones, strong nose and chin. European, white and young, very young.

...

The security team sent the live video feed to Tel Aviv.

"David, the feed from Cyprus is coming through. We can confirm the attendance of Dr. Li Qiang Min, AKA Dr. Three."

The senior officer sat and watched the introductions "Do we have a name on the young assistant?"

The man concentrated on the audio "OK... Prometheus. Just checking our database. I have only one hit. Chinese intelligence stated 'Prometheus' was the new interrogator for Scorpia, trained personally by the doctor. We have no background or any confirmed sighting of that operative. The Chinese only filed a very short report stating that this young man had picked out their deep cover operative who had been posing as Vietnamese site worker and proceeded to interrogate him before handing the agent over to Hanoi."

"He's very young. The feed quality is not great. Any guess of age?"

"Umm.. from facial characteristics... eighteen to twenty-seven. Not a great help there"

"I have a meeting. Call me if anything interesting turns up. I figure its just a meet and greet. No business will be discussed straight away."

Alex listened carefully as Dr. Three spoke in Mandarin, he was acting as translator, even though the Doctor spoke excellent English. "Madam Conti, the doctor requests a short recess. He would like to relax before dinner. It was a long flight and he is tired."

The suite of rooms were well appointed, two adjoining bedrooms with with their own private bathrooms and a communal reception area. Alex kept the windows shut and the drapes drawn. Air conditioning was turned down, both he and the doctor were used to humidity and heat.

"Go and keep Mrs. Conti company. Chat, you are excellent at engaging people. We need to be sure that this woman is what we expect." Alex just nodded, knowing the room was likely to be bugged.

The young man wandered onto the terrace by a large pool. He sat down on a lounger next to the mysterious Mrs Conti.

"I hope you don't mind, but I feel like fresh air rather than sleeping." Alex stated in English, no trace of any Estuarine accent now, just pure mid-Atlantic blandness.

The woman appraised this young man, who looked very young and put down her phone and voiced her concerns "You are very young to be a trained Scorpia operative."

"I have been Dr. Three's assistant for over a year." Alex knew normal training took over four months, but Alex had a wealth of experience from actual operations and his initial training at Brecon and Venice. He was battle hardened already, not some green, untried kid.

Mrs Conti, knew Malagosto had been defunct for nearly three years, closed by a joint MI6 and Interpol operation. According to sources, new training centre had only been functioning for eight months.

"So, Prometheus is a codename?" stated the forty something woman as she noted the long sleeved shirt and trousers covering the young mans body. There were bruises visible on his neck.

"We all operate under code names. My past and upbringing are no longer relevant. My life is Scorpia now." Alex leaned back and enjoyed the heat, it almost reminded him of holidays with friends, since Stormbreaker. He thought about the good things in the past, not missions and not the murder of Ian. He rationalised his life that it had been Blunt, Jones and Sayle who had killed his uncle. Yassen had been no more responsible than the gun. Alex's last holiday had been two weeks in Hawaii with the Pleasures in the early July after Jack died. He had spent day after day in bed in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling in the darkened space, when he let Sabina and her parents carry on like he wasn't there. Lying, saying he's been reading on the balcony, walking in the resort, watching the surfers. Never swimming or sunbathing, as he was body conscious and deeply ashamed of his scars both physical and psychological.

The train of thought, broken when his hostess, stated "You must think me so rude. Would you like some refreshments?" Alex stayed relaxed and kept his eyes closed, hearing the approach of the almost silent staff.

"Anything but alcohol." Yassen had long stated you had no likes or dislikes in this business, but Alex was here to observe, not on a job. He really hoped it wasn't iced tea, he really hated that foul concoction.

The waiter returned with a iced coffee frappe and a tray of snacks. Alex was happy to lay down and let Mrs. Conti text away to her heart's content.

...

It was after midnight, her guests were in their suite. Miriam was in her sealed and secure office. The link live to Tel Aviv.

"You requested all know young operatives and their whereabouts. We found two recently active possibilities. Yakob Zalinski, Polish Police, missing presumed dead in an undercover operation in Warsaw three months ago, aged twenty-two. Paulo Salou, ETA terrorist, aged twenty-four, last reported sighting last December. There is one Scorpia trained operative unaccounted for, Alexander John Rider."

"Rider was MI6 and the CIA's wunderkind. Wasn't he mentally unstable after the take down of Abdul-Aziz Al-Rahim in Cairo?"

"No sightings of Rider since September 2002, reported to be in US protective custody. His guards were murdered in January 2003 after a suspected poisoning. Scorpia abduction was likely by Cossack. There were rumours of a close relationship between Rider and Cossack." The analyst in Mossad Headquarters then stated "The cameras and microphones in the suite upstairs have been disabled, local scrambler we suspect. We concur that Prometheus is likely to be Rider. Send through any other confirmation, we would like to know if he is there willingly or has been broken and reprogrammed."

Miriam knew the signs would be physical torture and sexual assaults. She would try and seduce the younger operative to get close to him.

Miriam took Prometeus on a stroll to the nearby Roman ruins. She flirted and had taken a great deal of time on her appearance this morning. Alex had enjoyed the banter and as they stood in the shadow of the ancient ruins of an amphitheater Alex confessed "I'm in a relationship, one that is inclusive. My partner is very jealous so it would not be good for either of our continued good health to stray."

"I take it your partner is also Scorpia."

"Yes. He is."

Miriam was almost sure this was not Alexander Rider with that confession. The Psychological Assessment from the CIA had stated their teen agent had been heterosexual, even if he was still inexperienced. Then again, repeated rapes and Pavlovian conditioning could change anything.

"How about we walk back along the shore." In truth, Miriam was happy that the boy confessed to being homosexual. That did not answer the questions she had, but she now knew Alex Rider had distinctive scarring on his chest from an assassination attempt, one sanctioned to Zeljan Kurst and serious burns on the boys back from the operation with the Indians in Kenya.

Alex smiled and then acquiesced, "Sure." He was sure he could cultivate this woman as a friend. He knew she was fishing about his past. Mossad was one agency he had never crossed paths with before and he was inclined to be open with them. Better neutral or a friend than another enemy, and he did think of his former employers as that, they had stabbed him in the back after promising a normal life with Liz, Edward and Sabina. Given time and stability, he would have settled down. They did not even give him one term at high school.


	10. Chapter 10

Madam Conti and Dr. Three were deep in discussion on various aspects of the arms trade involving world politics and new markets. All things would be intertwined and integrated with their organisation, if this woman joined Scorpia's board. Alex stood back with their host's personal bodyguard.

"So... Prometheus, what's your real name?"

"Harry Palmer." Alex said with a completely straight face. He checked the other guy's face and guessed he'd probably never heard of Len Deighton either.

"So, Harry, worked for Scorpia long?"

"Long enough."

"Pay well?"

"I'm still technically the Doctor's apprentice. Though I did make a nice bonus breaking the chinese agent I caught. 100 grand for that." Which had been reinvested in Scorpia. Alex was well aware how short funds were and every penny was needed building up their reputation and getting new customers.

"You're an interrogator." Alex watched the guy take a small step away.

"I initially trained as an assassin. I was a bit emotional for that. Too personally involved with my targets. After the last, well I enjoyed offing Julius a bit too much."

"Right." The unwritten hierarchy was that bodyguards hated assassins, but not as much as interrogators. Everyone hated them.

Miriam Conti came up to Alex as before dinner drinks were served. Alex stood with a glass of water. Miriam and Dr. Three were drinking vintage Louis Roederer Crystal to celebrate her status as Head of Arms and Procurement for Scorpia. "You must not tease David. I doubt he has ever read a spy novel or any novel in his life."

"I like reading. I was tempted to say Harry Potter, but he'd have got that reference straight away."

Miriam knew her bodyguard well, but he was not into cinema or books. His chosen reading was about sports in the Turkish newspapers or Gun Monthly "So you don't drink?"

Alex had discussed his options with Dr. Three and was going to be honest with this woman. Israel was one country that could use someone with his skills base and would not be put off that he had worked freelance. "Maybe, when I get to 18. Don't want to stunt my growth or damage my liver."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen, not long to my birthday either, only four months."

Miriam smiled "So I take it I am talking to Alex Rider."

"Call me Alex if you want, but I do prefer my codename." Alex then smiled at Miriam, " I can't wait to get back to base, back to Cossack. I am a seventeen year old sex addict and I need my fix of hot hard cock."

With that the forty something woman let out a loud barking laugh, at Alex's outright lewdness.

...

The communications technician watched the handler sat in the room, swear loudly as he spilled his cup of coffee. "Shit, Fuck... I did hear that right. We have a 17 year old psycho to deal with. One who's a boy toy for Gregorovich? "

"Well he did say he enjoyed his work. For him to be a skilled interrogator at 17 means the kid's not well balanced nor well adjusted."

"Who's the target he mentioned earlier... Julius who?'

"Grief clone... Alex's double from that school in France, Point Blanc Academy. Escaped from the British Detention Facility in Gibraltar. Rider took him out with a head shot in July 2002."

"Have we got a psych profile for Rider?"

"Not yet. Need to input this new data with the CIA data from 2002."

...

Alex was happily packing Dr. Three's bag in the doctor's preferred meticulous order. "So, Miriam is to be my new handler. Cossack will not be happy."

Dr. Three had spoken often to his protege, discussing the fact Alex was not homosexual and this affair with Cossack was damaging, a result of disassociation on his psyche by the segregated imprisonment at the time of his sexual awakening. "I have told you Cossack is not ideal for you. He is possessive. I may have indulged this affair while you regained a sense of self, but at 18 you are moving west. Mrs. Conti will run Scorpia for Europe and the Middle East. You will head up interrogations for her."

The seventeen year was not going to fight about the doctor's diagnosis as the man was a respected psychologist, but the old man thought all homosexuality was a the result of psychological defects, not love, not belonging. So Alex kept his own opinions to himself and changed the subject. "Are you going back to doing practicals?"

"No, I have another apprentice, one who has worked in Columbia for the Cortez Cartel. She wants to rejoin Scorpia. I need to keep a close eye on her, just to make sure she is not under the influence of the DEA or the CIA."

"Umm, is she hot?" stated Alex, making a dig at the Doctors interest in his sex life.

"No. I think she is so successful as an interrogator because of her repulsiveness. I think she revels in her ugliness."

...

In the darkness, lying on soft sheets, the air moist with humidity and mingled sweat. Two men lay in each others arms. "We can still be lovers. I do not want to give this up. I respect Dr. Three, but this is good, this is home, not any place nor work or anyone else. Just you Yasha."

"You have become home for me also. The Doctor thinks you need independence. That I am an emotional crutch for you. Prove yourself not for me or anyone else. You have always been in control. It was always your choice, I respected you enough to point out my faults. I will continue to arrange time to be with you. I too will miss this." Yassen tightened his hold on his lover. They had fallen into bed as soon as Alex had returned from Cyprus.

...

Three days before Alex's eighteenth birthday, they had both wandered around the street market in Saigon and the two Scorpia operatives were just tourists here. In a bustling tourist cafe, they both had citron pressé to drink. Yassen the spoke in Russian. "I have items to give you and I will give you details of three safe houses, that I used in Europe. I know you will not go to England, but your father left me details of his bank accounts in National Bank of Panama and the Bank of Zurich to pass on to you on your majority. I had a lawyer, keep everything legal and above board. These are the numbers and the documentation. The panamanian bank has branches in Berlin, Paris and Rome. The Swiss bank account is only accessible in that country. You have over two million in cash, bonds and some securities. Keep it safe and add to these nest eggs. You have two good quality passports, get more. The three safe-houses are all isolated and have not been stocked for over four years. Check them when you can. Restock supplies. There are stashes of cash in each.

Yassen paused "You may refuse any job. You are freelance and have no debt to clear for training. In fact, you are to shadow Mrs. Conti as you have shadowed myself and Dr. Three."

Alex then asked the question that had bugged him "We have codenames, but not Dr. Thi, Demetrios and Mrs. Conti. Why not?"

"They worked in their field before joining the Board and continue to do work independently of Scorpia. Also, you, I and originally Dr. Three undertook contract work. Safer not to have an identity for most of those who you will meet and work with."

"I'm the only teenage operative with Scorpia. I kind of stand out."

"You are already feared. You have for the past year outperformed each trainee at our facility. They have your mark to live up to. However, each have five year contracts to pay off training debts. I expect you will be initially sent to work for Mossad, as they will wish to see Mrs. Conti's protege in action. That is why you have been training with me for two months. I .. I am not good with goodbyes."

"It isn't. I do not fly out until tomorrow morning. You and I have all night together. to prove to me how possessive you are, Yashka. I am yours... Mark me. Make no one doubt who I belong to."


	11. Chapter 11

The arrival of Prometheus as Mrs. Conti's assistant had been smooth transition. Alex had been trained to adapt, and so he did. Here he started to learn arabic and farsi, and brush up on his portuguese. His job very similar to acting as an assistant to Dr. Three, mostly administration work, only Alex was a fully trained assassin and interrogator. Miriam had her own personal secretary, a man called Lysander, but Alex suspected he too was a deep cover Mossad agent.

For four weeks, Alex had relaxed in Cyprus. He had his own small villa separate from the main house. He trained with the guards, none of whom fraternized with him beyond simple greetings. He kept up his fitness and skills and waited for his first solo assignment. Unlike his trip to kill Mrs. Jones after Malagosto, this time Alex would not hesitate even if he personally knew the target. That original mission had been a certain fail, even if he had killed Tulip Jones, he would never have returned to Venice. Julia Rothman broke all the rules on a first kills and assassin training. Alex had not been teamed with a backup to tidy up if necessary, and he did not have a mentor. Yassen's own apprenticeship had given him over six months before he truly worked solo.

Young, freshly trained assassin's were rare, most had prior form. Scorpia recruits were normally experienced soldiers or operatives, either for mafia, cartels or other agencies. Dr. Three had explained that Alex how he should have been training at Malagosto. In depth training for at least two years, with a mentor and he should not have been sent out solo as an assassin until he was 18. Missions before that would have been part of a team. If his initial defection to Scorpia had been handled correctly, Jack would have been alive, but Alex guessed he would never have agreed to Julia Rothman's plans to execute thousands of schoolchildren as part of Invisible Sword. In the long run, it had been Blunt's fault Jack had been murdered. That man had kept Julius alive. Scorpia had let Grief's clone escape and had laid the trap in Cairo. Alex had been a good operative, better than good for Blunt, but neither the CIA or MI6 had acknowledged that, only seeing him as a threat once they no longer deemed him usable.

He took coffee with his boss. He did not second guess what was on the cards, just that Miriam looked agitated.

"I would like you to make initial contact with a new client. Cash upfront payment is expected. The contact is a front. I want you to access the contact in a face to face meeting. I am unsure if it is genuine or a ploy to expose my operation." Miriam stated before finally taking a sip of her turkish coffee.

"Is it someone I know?" Alex had discussed work with Cossack and realised it was more than likely he would cross paths with MI6, CIA, Indian or Australian agents. He must not allow his personal feelings to affect his work. Nothing was gone at a personal level. He was now just a tool with no affiliations, personal loyalties or politics.

"You may... if my suspicions are true, Ms. Colman, is in fact CIA. The business could be all above board, but Dr. Three says your ability to access situations is good. The meeting is tomorrow in Beirut, at the Hilton. Business breakfast at 8. You leave at 4."

"OK, meet and greet. If I think its a set up, I get out. My team?"

"I will send three body guards, all are independent security hired via a Swiss firm. Neutral and top notch. I can foresee no problems with such a public meeting place. Anything further is up to you. Good Luck, Prometheus."

...

Tamara Knight had risen to senior field agent. She was running the CIA field office in Beirut. As black ops she needed to secure an arms and explosive dealer outside of normal channels for her under the counter operations. Word of mouth had recommended Conti Arms Supplies. Funding was filtered through the money laundering and illegal bonds, cash supplies and dirty dealing that would make any mafia wide boy proud. Not really the sought of thing she thought she was gettinging into when she was recruited from college, six years previously.

She tried to keep everything professional, but sometimes, this life was lonely. She had tried to keep in contact with her old boss Joe Byrne, who on retirement had left this life behind. She had listened to the rumours that Byrne had tried to help a burned agent, but had been told to keep quiet and follow orders. Byrne had transferred out of Covert Operations at that point. Black ops agents had no back up or the nice security of retirement plans. Whoever the agent was, they should have expected no better. You got the low down when you signed up. Most agents only did a couple of years. Tamara liked the thrill and the danger of tightrope walking. Her maiden aunt, who had brought her up to be a respectable young lady would have a fit.

She read her fax. Meeting confirmed. She was not meeting with Miriam Conti herself but an assistant. No name, or details. Obviously, there was some checking out taking place.

...

Alex wore a grey, single breasted suit jacket and matching trousers. Tailored to him but not high fashion. He appeared to be a mid range executive with bring striped tie. He wore Rayban sunglasses as he walked into the restaurant. Ms. Coleman was immediately recognised by Alex as the woman who had been Nicholai Drevin's secretary. Tamara Knight, a woman who at fourteen had fueled his wet dreams. He almost smiked at the recollections. He was tempted to walk out now, but money was money what did it matter if it was from the CIA or whoever.

Alex took off his glasses and went straight over to his contact, having signaled to his security to be on high alert, not to trust this woman, not until he himself was satisfied her business was genuine. She was likely to be wired for sound and her designer glasses were likely to contain a camera.

"Ms. Colman, I presume?" Alex said in a perfect Californian accent

"Yes, Mister?"

"Prometheus, no mister. I work for Conti Incorporated. I am the Senior Executive of Information Retrieval."

Tamara perused the young man, who looked young enough t be a freshman at college. "Have we met?"

"Yes, but we both had different names when we met on the Bahamas in 2001."

Alex then calmly opened the menu to see the selection on offer to breakfast, keeping his face relaxed despite his inner amusement at pulling Tamara's tail. Wondering what was getting screamed down her earpiece at this precise moment.

Tamara listened as her handler screamed at her to leave. "Its been a while, Alex."

"Please, make use of my codename or I may slip who you work for and I'm sure that would be bad for business, since you obviously are deep undercover. I did hear that our mutual friend Joe retired from Advertising or was it Animation? I forget."

"Right... so will this affect business."

"No. I am happy to deal, if you are. Just be warned our clauses for breaking confidence or business dealings are quite prohibitive. Its not personal you understand, its just how we operate." Alex smiled briefly and then waved over the waiter. "Lets eat then discuss your requirements."

Tamara had just been subtly threatened. Her handler was telling her to back ot now. Prometheus was a known Scorpia operative and why the hell had she called him Alex.

"If you please excuse me, I need to powder my nose."

Jake Murphy followed his boss into the unoccupied stock room. "What the hell is going on, McManus is about to call an abort."

"Prometheus is Alex Rider, an ex-MI6 agent burned in 2002. He obviously is freelance rather than Scorpia since he now works for Miriam Conti. He was a good kid. I have had no idea he was the contact, but we need a supplier for our subcontracted work, so I say we deal."

...

Howie Schneider typed furiously and then speed read as the classified files came up. "Open warrant for detain and interrogate. Jesus, this kid's only 18." The handler did the maths in his head, MI6 had burned a fifteen year old. Tamara was the lead, if she said they were to trust this kid, they were about to hands over a serious amount of cash to a kid who could stab them all in the back and Tamara called him a good kid.


	12. Chapter 12

Melissa Grayson was the new Deputy Director of Covert Operations at the Central Intelligence Agency and all her attention was on Homeland Security and the War on Terror. The report on Arms Procurement from the team in Beirut was on her desk. That fact alone puzzled her, then she noted the code name Prometheus, and the fact this Scorpia affiliate was now working for Miriam Conti. So, Mossad were worried about the rise of the only supplier of truly freelance operatives, more an employment agency, providing services for handling money, supplies and a myriad of problems with efficient assassins, banking services and couriers. She had no personal knowledge of Alexander John Rider, but after reading his file she put a secure call straight through to her predecessor in this post. Joe Byrne had a lot to answer for. She shook her head, at least the kid was willing to deal, but she guessed America was his enemy after the way he had been used and then thrown way in 2001-2002.

"Byrne, its Melissa Grayson. Is this communication secure?"

"As it can be, I am alone, the Department of the Treasury installed the phone and they come to sweep my house for bugs every month. You can retire from the CIA, but you never truly leave. How can I help you, Melissa?" Byrne also knew how to get around such restrictions as was any agent worth their salt.

"Alexander Rider, what the fuck? You used a fourteen year old on operations?"

"Look, MI6 Special Operations offered the use of the kid, who by the way was an excellent operative, instinctive, natural, a true player. He managed the Sarov situation practically solo, no back up, no handler, nothing. The Russians still think the kid deserved the their equivalent of Congressional Medal of Honor for that. As for Drevin, we were desperate to get the low down on what that psycho was up to. We threatened and pressurized Alex into doing that operation. Not nice, not legal, but its what we do. As for Cairo, that was a FUBAR from the start. The real catastophe was that supposed Honey Trap laid out by the Department of Homeland Security, they put a fifteen year old kid with PTSD in solitary for five months because on an external threat. I tried till I was blue in the face to get Alex into Witness Protection, to make him disappear. MI6 had promised to leave him alone and we ended up driving him into the arms of Yassen fucking Gregorovich. So what else do you want to know?"

"Gregorovich? The New Head of Scorpia? Fuck it, Byrne, who ran that operation then if it wasn't you?"

"Missy Sale, she was a handler at Langley, when I took retirement. God, for that fuck up at Montana I'd have sent her to Alaska, but I guess you guys had no idea that she caused Alex to go back to Scorpia." Byrne let out a dry chuckle. "Well I got that info from Edward Pleasure, Alex Rider's foster father. Alex was a decent enough kid to say goodbye to the only family he had left, before sticking two fingers up to us. By, the way, Mossad have known about Alex for over six months. Before you accuse me of anything Yev came to see me and told me in confidence. If you try and bring charges about me keeping information to myself, well the Director himself told me Rider was not my business and that I was not to pursue it and to shut up and not to piss on other people's operations." Byrne knew that Sale was one of the new kids groomed for great things and he himself had been dismissed as a relict of the Cold War, no use in the new age of international terrorism. There was a big sigh as Byrne continued. "Well, guess what the Russians, Mossad and even the Indians think we fucked up royally over Rider. Al Qaeda even respect Alex, and him working for Conti will put some serious business her way and that's just how Mossad want to play it. They have a full, bonafide link with the Militants that they control. If you want information, Mossad will not talk to you. You, yourself have no personal friends or contacts there. You should talk to the Chinese, Prometheus was trained personally by Dr. Three. Hanoi have used the kid several times as a 'consultant for information retrieval'. So, Sale created a monster. Try to deal with your Rider problem and if you are lucky Mossad will destroy you. He's their special project now."

"And if I'm unlucky?"

"Gregorovich is a genuine serial killer, who enjoys his work. He took out what was left of Scorpia when he escaped the British. I heard Blunt was poisoned, took that bastard five months to die a long, slow, painful death." Byrne did not add that he'd passed on Sale's name to Mossad. Gregorovich would be on her tail for sure. "Look, are you going to pay my consultancy rates for this? My pension is adequate, but a holiday abroad would be nice."

"How much of a FUBAR is this?" Melissa asked, wishing this mess had not crossed her desk. Sale had obviously thought Rider was an expendable kid. Now he was a very dangerous young man, who had no reason to do the CIA or America any favours and by the sound of it Gregorovich had personally murdered the retired head of special Operations in London as revenge for his imprsonment.

"One that should have been avoided. Do not let Sale try to tidy up this mess. Keep tabs on Rider, but if he's with Conti he will be neural as long as you pay up and do not cause him problems. Watch out for Dr. Three as well, he took Alex on as an apprentice, so that old man might stir the pot as well. From what we know of the interrogator's chosen id that they remain close to their former master. If you don't know about him, read his file. Especially the chapter on his dealings with the North Vietnamese. Doctor Three really does have an axe to grind against us, thats a fifty year old hornets nest still festering in the background."

"I get you are an expert on Scorpia then, but not now. We all thought they were defunct after Kurst was arrested"

"Come off it, they are a freelance agency and always were. They tried to get personal over Invisible Sword and Cairo, and nearly were destroyed. What remained was small fry until Gregorovich took over and no one and I mean even I ever considered that lone player could resurrect Scorpia, but he did. Rider is being groomed to take over. Play this right and they won't piss on us. Its not personal to them, so use them if you need to."

"Taking out Blunt sounds personal" murmured Melissa, but without all the facts she could not draw any sound conclusions.

"After what that bastard did, he deserved it. Whats in the file is only the tip of the iceberg. If you want all the details on Alex, go talk to Edward Pleasure. He obtained copies of Scorpia's files on Alex. I've read them. Blunt blackmailed Alex, by threatening the woman who brought him up, she died during the Cairo operation. I left Alex for his people to sort out. Next I knew Alex was in protective custody. I really cannot help much on the Rider situation. I'm an old man and I'm well out of it now. Trust your instincts and fight your ground. Don't let any pen pushing desk jockey in Washington tell you what to do, you run black ops, they don't."

"Tell me about it. I think I'll keep this under wraps. Washington does not need to know. Our arms procurement is all off the books, so I'll keep it that way. I might find use for their services, as there are things we cannot justifiably do."

As she put down the phone, she pulled up the personnel file on Missy Sale. An analyst who had been promoted to operations in 2001. She was now an FBI liaison in Washington. No chance of her sticking her finger into operations again. The enquiry had found her responsible for the mismanagement that had resulted in the death of two guards at the immigration facility. She then read the file for Cossack and a trail of mass murder across the globe. She skimmed the files on Scorpia and found out, the CIA had used them in the past to resolve problems behind the scenes with no come back to Congress.

Scorpia was just another tool at her disposal, within 10 minutes a coded memo was sent to the team in Beirut, to explore the use of Prometeus and his associates in any area to divert attention away from the agency, as in the age of 24 hour media coverage, this would divert attention away from the less savoury aspects of their remit.


End file.
